


argument

by killerqueenwrites



Series: i will always hold you close (irondad bingo) [6]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Pepper Potts, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Gen, Kidnapping, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not today, Post-Endgame, Whump, argument, in which tony has adopted peter and harley, ironfam, one day i will stop letting peter get kidnapped, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenwrites/pseuds/killerqueenwrites
Summary: Tony’s going tokillhim.Peter rolls his eyes again and God, Tony could throttle him right now; if they were in private, maybe, back at the Compound or the Manhattan penthouse instead of facing off on the first roof Tony had seen as he carried Peter, literally kicking and screaming, away from the fight.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: i will always hold you close (irondad bingo) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016994
Comments: 8
Kudos: 319





	argument

**Author's Note:**

> if you're subscribed to me, sorry for the spam you're getting. i'm reuploading my irondad bingo one-shots as individual stories to make it easier for people to find them and so they can be stories in their own right.[ they were originally posted here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19019488/chapters/45168637)
> 
> have some post-endgame ironfam with extra peppermom because she’s awesome. unlike in my ‘bits and pieces’ universe, peter and harley were both snapped and may died at some point during the five years. sorry.

Tony’s going to kill him.

Peter is squirming in his grip, shouting protests and various other things that May would have chewed him the hell out for, and Tony’s going to _kill_ him. In private. Slowly and with relish. In a soundproof room so he can savour every moment–

Peter gives a particularly violent jerk and Tony growls, swooping down towards the nearest rooftop and opening his arms. Peter drops, rolls into a crouch and leaps to his feet with his fists clenched.

“That’s enough!” Tony barks, and maybe the shock of him raising his voice in return is what makes Peter stop, quiet down. “What the _fuck_ were you thinking?”

He can tell Peter’s rolling his eyes under the mask just by the way he huffs and shrugs. “I was fine.”

“No, you weren’t! You were _this_ close to getting dead.” _Again_. Tony sucks in a horrified breath, the image of the man lunging for his kid with a fucking _machete_ dancing behind his eyes. “What if he’d landed a hit with that thing, huh? And you were bleeding out alone after you took the damn tracker out of your suit?”

“Whatever,” Peter mutters, tugging his mask up to his hairline.

_Oh. Okay. Challenge accepted._ “Whatever? You think this is _whatever_? You think this is a fucking game?”

“Obviously not–“

“ _Obviously_ nothing, except the fact you’re out past curfew with no way of being found, picking fights with all the wrong kinds of people.”

“But I don’t see why you–“

“Because it was stupid and reckless, Peter!”

“I had it handled!”

“There is a wealth of evidence to the contrary.”

Peter rolls his eyes again and _God_ , Tony could throttle him right now; if they were in private, maybe, back at the Compound or the Manhattan penthouse instead of facing off on the first roof Tony had seen as he carried Peter, literally kicking and screaming, away from the fight.

“Don’t you dare make that face at me, young man.”

“Don’t fucking ‘young man’ me.” It’s easy, a lot of the time, to forget that Peter’s still just a teenager. A teenager whose world was turned upside down in the worst ways possible, Tony reminds himself. “You’re not–“

“Not what? Responsible for you? Worried out of my mind every time you come home late? Losing my shit when I can’t track your suit?”

“You’re not supposed to do this!” Peter shouts. “You’re supposed to understand what it’s like to have this – this responsibility. You’re supposed to help me, not swoop in and take over because you think I’m just a kid–“

“You are just a kid,” Tony snarls back, and he’s too angry to care that Peter flinches away. “You’re sixteen, Peter. Sixteen! You’re a child.”

“You shouldn’t even be in the suit,” Peter mumbles.

“Neither should you, if that’s the way you’re going to act with it on.” Tony takes a deep breath, fighting the urge to cradle his right arm, because that would prove his idiot kid right. In five years, he’s never yelled at Morgan like this, but then again, Morgan has never been so stupidly, suicidally reckless.

“What, you’re gonna take the suit away again? Like that stopped me last time.”

“You know I’m not,” Tony says, forcing himself to be the voice of reason against Peter’s biting tone. It’s a challenge. “I told you I’d never do that again.”

“But you still don’t trust me–“

“Clearly, I have good reason not to.”

He regrets it the second he says it, but it’s too late. Peter’s expression shatters before it hardens into something cold and impenetrable.

“Okay, well, whatever. I’m going home.” He spins around and stalks towards the edge of the roof, each step like a punch to Tony’s gut.

“Okay, let me – I’ll give you a lift.”

“No, I’m going _home_.” Peter hops up onto the edge of the roof, yanking his mask back down. “Don’t worry, Mr Stark. I’m not even your kid, right?” He shrugs. “It’s not like you’re my dad.” And then he’s gone, the familiar _hiss_ and _thwip_ coming a lot later than Tony feels comfortable with.

* * *

Pepper’s waiting when he gets back to their Manhattan apartment, frustration and sympathy at war on her face.

“FRIDAY told on me, I’m guessing.”

“On both of you,” she corrects, following him as he walks to the lounge. “There were two of you in that fight.”

“I just…” Tony sighs. “I’ve been trying to go easy on him – have I been too lenient? Pep, I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to be doing anymore.”

“You’re doing your best, Tony.”

“Is it good enough, though?”

“No, you’re doing a _terrible_ job,” a new voice drawls, and Harley’s head pops up over the couch. “I’m practically dying of neglect.”

“Harley, eavesdropping–“

“You.” Tony snaps his fingers in Harley’s direction. “Problem child.”

“Yes, reluctant father figure?”

_Reluctant_ , like Tony didn’t say yes before Harley even finished asking if he could move in, “because Mom and Ellie moved and Ellie’s, like, my age now – God, we’re almost twins, and I’m staying on the couch, but…I don’t know, I think we all need some time.”

No, tangent. Harley’s fine for now. Worry about Peter.

“Message Peter. He said he was going – well, I think back to his old place in Queens. Can you just check he got there?”

Harley shrugs but pulls his phone out. “He won’t answer. For all he knows, I’m working with the enemy.”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“Snapchat says he’s there, look. He’s fine. Why didn’t you just track the suit?”

Tony sighs. “He took the tracker out again.”

“Again?”

“That’s what we were arguing about – partly. Why am I telling you this? It’s none of your business. Or are you at the age where I can reasonably confide in you about your siblings? See?” He turns to Pepper. “I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

“You’re doing great, Tony. He’s just having a hard time, okay? Don’t push him tonight, and try again in the morning.” She smiles and leans over to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m going to check on Morgan.”

Tony groans and flops on the couch next to Harley.

“You _are_ doing okay, Tony.”

“Just okay?”

“Two fucked-up teenagers and a five-year-old? I’d say okay is fucking stellar.”

“You’re not fucked up,” Tony protests, “either of you.”

“Sure we’re not, except my baby sister is suddenly the same age as me and my mom doesn’t know how to cope with me and Peter came back from being dead for five years to find out his aunt is dead and then you almost died in front of him.”

“I hate when you inject logic into situations like this.” Tony rubs his temples. “May Parker would beat my ass if she could see this.”

“You’re doing your best, Tony.”

“Stop parroting Pepper.”

“But Pepper’s always right.”

Tony can’t really argue with that logic. “Does he ever talk to you?”

“Not about anything important.”

That’s still more than Tony gets. He hates it, hates the awkward silences that should be filled with happy chatter – and he hates that he hates it, because of course he shouldn’t expect everything to just fall back into place like nothing happened. Everything that could have gone wrong did, and he’s doing his best to pick up the pieces.

“It’s not like you’re my dad,” Peter had said, not yelling but almost cold, resigned. And he was right, Tony’s not, but he’s trying his best to be something, to be whatever, whoever the kid needs. His kid.

Tomorrow. He’ll try again tomorrow.

“Come on, Keener,” he says with a heavy sigh, “bed.”

* * *

The apartment is dark and cold, too empty, too lifeless.

Most of the furniture is still there, but it’s been stripped bare of just about everything else, everything that made it a home.

“I’m going _home_ ,” he’d yelled at Mr Stark, sounding like a petulant child, as if this shell of a flat is his home anymore.

He should really just bite the bullet and give Mr Stark the green light to sell it.

_Mr Stark_. Peter needs to apologise. He should just go home: the Tower, which has been his real home for months now; Mr Stark, who feels like home every time he opens his arms.

Shit, he’s been such a brat. To Mr Stark, who’s been everything Peter needed and more since the Blip. To Pepper, who never signed up to two teenagers but took it in her stride anyway. To Harley, who’s dealing with almost the same shit as Peter. To Morgan, who just wants the older brother she’s heard about her whole life but never met until now. To Rhodey, Happy, the entire extended Stark family.

Peter groans internally and opens the backpack he’d somehow remembered to pick up on the way to the apartment, pulling out his change of clothes. He can just get a cab back; fares from Queens to Manhattan are nothing to Tony and his credit cards.

He leaves the normal way, locking the door behind him, and heads for Queens Boulevard, knowing he’s more likely to get a taxi from there at this time of night. Hopefully, everyone will be in bed by the time he gets to the Tower and he won’t have to face them until morning.

Peter’s so busy thinking about his family that he doesn’t even register the faint buzzing at the base of his skull.

“Hey, kid!”

Peter turns just in time to see the fist swinging towards his face. Spider-Man could have ducked, but Peter Parker can’t.

He hits the ground hard, gasping with shock and pain, and rolls over. Someone looms over him, a sneer on their face.

“Shall we see what Stark’s prepared to do to get you back safely, huh?”

There’s a glint in the corner of his eye and his senses scream _DANGER!_ There’s a sharp jab in his neck.

_DANGER!_

_Yeah, no shit._

* * *

Tony wakes up to his cell phone buzzing on his bedside table, which only happens when it’s late at night and FRIDAY doesn’t want to wake Pepper.

He groans and scoops it up, squinting one-eyed at the time: it’s 2:30. “Who the fuck…?”

_“Peter, Boss.”_

That’s all Tony needs to answer the call. “Hey, kid.”

There’s only silence on the other end.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you. I was just worried, okay? You wanna come home? I’ll sit up and talk it out with you, because we both needed to act a bit more mature earlier. Or if you don’t wanna see me until tomorrow, I’ll make hot chocolate and leave it out for you in the kitchen, and we can sort it out in the morning. I just need to know you’re okay.” He waits, biting his lip. “Pete?”

_“Well, that was cute,”_ drawls a voice that is definitely not Peter’s.

“You have five seconds to explain to me who the fuck you are and what the fuck you think you’re doing with Peter’s phone,” Tony hisses, gesturing for FRIDAY to start tracing the call.

_“Oh, it’s Peter? We weren’t sure which one he was, you see; you keep all those kids locked up tight. Guess now we know why, huh? Spider-Man? Really?”_

“Where’s my kid?” Tony barks. Pepper stirs beside him.

_“Easy, Stark. You know, this does kinda make it simpler for us. We were gonna nab one of your kids and get you to bring us Spider-Man, but when we grab this one and the suit is in his backpack? You can’t write this shit.”_

Tony’s heart is pounding in his ears. “So what do you want from me?”

_“Nothing, now. Just wanted to let you know you won’t be seeing your kid again.”_

“No, wait–!”

The call ends.

“FRI?”

_“They were blocking the signal, Boss, I’m sorry.”_

“No,” Tony says, “no, no, no no no–“

“Tony?” Pepper’s shaking him, he thinks. Maybe. He’s not sure. “Tony, what’s wrong?”

“Someone–“ Tony gasps out. “Someone has Peter.”

“Who? Tony, who?”

“I don’t know, I don’t – _God_ –“

“What do they want?” Pepper lays a hand on his cheek, turns his head to face her. “They must want something, honey.”

Tony gasps out a breath. “They have it.”

* * *

The leader is smirking when he walks back in, tossing Peter’s phone aside carelessly. “Did someone have a fight with their daddy?”

Peter glares. His head is spinning too much for him to even begin to formulate a response to that, never mind trying to break out of whatever’s keeping him in this chair.

“Or…I guess he’s not your dad, right? Can’t be, if he’s not even gonna look for you.”

No…no, that can’t be right. Mr Stark wouldn’t just leave him here.

Wouldn’t he? After what Peter had said on the rooftop, he wouldn’t bother to look for himself either. Mr Stark has gone above and beyond for him in the last few months, and Peter had thrown it back in his face in one bratty sentence.

“Sucks to be you, I guess, Spidey. Good news is we have a few hours before those drugs wear off.”

Drugs. Right. They’d drugged him.

“We can make this hurt.”

_Fuck._

* * *

“For the last time, no!”

“Why would you give me this suit if–?”

“For emergencies!”

“I’m really fucking curious what you’d call this, then!”

“Harley!” Tony roars, slamming his palms down on the granite countertop. “No!”

_Shit_. He hates shouting, hates losing his temper; he reminds himself too much of Howard, and that’s one thing he swore never to do.

Harley, thankfully, isn’t cowed. “I have a suit. I can operate said suit. I’ll be an extra pair of eyes. I can help, Tony!”

“Not this time. I’m sorry, kid.”

“You’re freaking out ‘cause Peter’s your kid and completely forgetting that he’s my brother!”

Tony takes a deep breath, tries to calm himself down. “I know. I know, believe me, but I need you to stay here with Morgan.”

“Get Happy to do it.”

“Happy’s already out looking. So are Pep and Rhodey. I need you to stay with her – the guy on the phone was pretty clear he’s not above kidnapping any of you to get what he wants.” _Give him a job. Keep him out of harm’s way._ “We’ll find him, Harley.”

He doesn’t voice the other reason he’s keeping Harley behind, because he can barely acknowledge it to himself: he has no idea what state Peter’s going to be in when they find him.

_If you find him_ , supplies the part of his brain that always seems to hate him.

No. When. They’re tracking his suit, his watch, his phone, anything they can. They’re scouring traffic cameras, CCTV, the internet. Happy’s inspecting the scene.

_When they find him_. He’s not losing his kid again.

* * *

Peter hurts. God, he hurts _so much._

He thinks he’s lost his mask, but maybe that doesn’t matter. Or does it? Did he ever have it? He can’t remember.

A fresh wave of pain. He can’t even tell where this one starts. Someone is talking, but he gave up listening a long time ago, around the time his eyes slid shut against his will.

He’s going to die here, in this damp metal room, drugged out of his mind and unable to even break a pair of handcuffs. Mr Stark isn’t coming. He’s not coming.

_I’m sorry_ , he wants to sob, _please, I’m so sorry._

He braces for the next hit, kick, punch, whatever, but it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s shouting, crashing, loud bangs, and a stern voice.

“Step away from the kid.”

Hands yank at Peter’s hair, something cold resting at the base of his throat. He knows that voice, knows who it belongs to, but his brain isn’t coming up with their face.

“Don’t–“

Peter whimpers as the thing presses against his neck a little harder. Should he open his eyes?

“Come any closer, and Spider-boy here is going bye-bye.”

“Okay. Okay.” The voice retreats. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

_No,_ Peter wants to cry _, come back, please come back._

“We can talk it out, okay?”

“What else can you give me?” someone hisses beside Peter’s ear. “The only thing I want is this little bastard dead, and you’re not going to stop me.”

“Maybe not,” the voice agrees, “but she might.”

What happens next, Peter’s not quite sure, but it’s loud. He flinches away, the hand disappearing from his hair.

Quiet.

“Oh, God,” a new voice whispers. “Peter? Peter, honey, can you hear me?”

“Tones? Tony, it’s me. Yeah, we found him. He’s…yeah, you got it? Get here as soon as you can.”

“Hey, baby.” There’s hands in his hair again, touching his throbbing face, but they’re gentle. “It’s just us, okay? Just Rhodey and Pepper. Tony’s on his way, honey. You’re gonna be fine.”

No, Tony hates him. Peter said…something, something he regrets. Mr Stark isn’t coming.

“Is there anyone left?” Rhodey whispers. Rhodey’s here?

“No,” Pepper says flatly, and there’s something dangerous in her voice. “They’re all dead.”

“Good.”

“How far out is Tony?”

“He said about three minutes.”

“Okay, let’s get him out of here.”

He’s being lifted and it hurts, _it hurts so much, please stop–_

“Sh, sh, it’s okay, it’s – shit, kid, you gotta let us _help_ you.”

_No no no–_

“Peter!”

_No, not you, not you, please._

“Oh my God, Peter – what the fuck? Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s me. I got you.”

No, Tony hates him. He’s not here, not with so much horror in his voice. Peter’s finally lost it, that’s what’s happening.

“I’m gonna–“

“They’re dead, Tony. Stay here, okay? Your son needs you.”

_Your son. Who could that be?_

“Hey, hey, stay awake, buddy. Peter? Peter, don’t – stay awake, you hear me? Stay awake.” A shaky breath, thick and choked. “Please, Peter, please.”

Peter tries, he really really does, but he’s so tired and his eyes won’t stay open and he hurts and if he lets go he won’t have to feel anything anymore…

* * *

Tony…isn’t quite sure what happens when he lands at the shipping yard and sees Pepper and Rhodey crouching over a weakly struggling figure. He thinks he yells in wordless horror, stumbling over to his kid, his son, his child, and pulls him into his lap without a thought to the pain in his right arm.

“Oh my God, Peter – what the fuck? Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s me. I got you.”

He thinks Peter might look at him pleadingly, but he also might not. He thinks he tries to stagger to his feet, every thought turning to revenge, but maybe Pepper stops him.

“Your son needs you.”

His son. His baby. His precious precious child.

And then Peter goes limp, all the fight draining out of him. Tony’s stomach drops to the floor.

“Hey, hey, stay awake, buddy. Peter? Peter, don’t – stay awake, you hear me? Stay awake.” He thinks he cries. “Please, Peter, please.”

“Thank God he passed out,” Rhodey mutters, his voice carrying nowhere near enough panic for what’s happening. Why isn't he panicking? “Happy’s on his way – we shouldn’t fly him anywhere.”

Pepper kneels beside him, one suited hand in Tony’s hair, the other in Peter’s. “You hear that, honey? We’re gonna take him back to the apartment. He’s gonna be fine.”

Nothing seems to be in even the realm of ‘fine’. Peter’s eyes and nose are swollen, dried blood crusted around his nostrils, his lips, his cheek, his forehead. He remembers thinking he wanted to throttle Peter, and nearly throws up when he sees the red marks that are rapidly becoming bruises around his kid’s neck. Whoever took Peter had _strangled_ him.

They’d fought. They’d fought and Peter had stormed off, upset, and been kidnapped and this is on Tony, all on Tony.

_“Boss, Mr Hogan is approaching. Mr Parker is safe to carry.”_

“Tony, I can–“

“No,” he whispers, cutting off Rhodey before he can finish that thought. As if he’s going to let go of Peter. “I’ve got him.”

_I’ve always got him._

* * *

“You with me, buddy?”

Peter groans. Opening his eyes is going to hurt, but he fights through it, struggling towards the voice.

“Hey, there he is.” Someone brushes a finger across his forehead. “Come on, Pete.”

“Tony…”

“Yeah, kid. Just me. You up for real, this time? Had a few false alarms.”

“Mmm…”

“Okay, sounds promising. You want a drink? It’s been a long day or so.”

“Tha’ long?” Peter finally manages to focus on the vaguely familiar blur in front of him.

“Yeah, kid, they nearly killed you.” Mr Stark’s voice is sharp.

Peter flinches back. He’s still mad, _he’s so mad, oh God…_

“Oh – no, I’m sorry, Pete.” Tony sighs, leans away from Peter’s bed.

Peter can’t help it; he whimpers and reaches for Mr Stark, Tony, his _dad_.

“Peter–“

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Peter whispers. _Please don’t hate me, please._

“Shh, shh.” Tony pulls him close, burying gentle fingers in his hair.

The tears are coming. “I’m sorry, Mr Stark, I – I didn’t mean it, I _didn’t–“_

“No, Peter–“

“I know – I know I’m not really your kid, and y-you don’t have to do all this for me – I know you stayed in the city instead of going back to your house for me, and you have Morgan and Harley to look after – and all I do is cause trouble and drag you out to m-make sure I’m not getting myself killed, and you shouldn’t even be in the suit ‘cause of your arm, and–“

“No, no, listen.” Tony jerks back suddenly, taking Peter’s face in his hands. His expression is serious, and Peter’s stomach drops. This is it, the end of the last good thing in his life. “You are my kid. In all the ways that matter.”

Peter has to take a second to reboot, because he was not expecting that at all. “…what?”

“You’re my kid, kid.” Tony sniffs, and are his eyes a little watery? “Everyone’s allowed a fight every now and then, right?”

“But I said – I was awful–“

“Yeah, you kinda were. But so was I. Besides, you get two free passes when I take into account that A: you’re the kid and I’m the adult, and B: you found out you lost the last member of your family not even two months ago. I think you’re allowed an off day here and there.” Tony pauses, his thumb gently stroking back and forth over Peter’s cheek. “But not as Spider-Man, you hear me? Because then it’s not just about you anymore. It’s all the people you’re trying to help, and it’s us – me, Pep, Harley, Morgan, fuck, even Rhodey and Happy. We need you to come home, buddy. I need that.”

“Okay,” Peter says with a sniffle.

“And I’ll always always always come for you, no matter how much of a brat you’ve been. This thing? There’s no strings attached here. It’s family. We’re family. You got that?”

“Yes, sir.” It’s not been said, but Peter hears it all the same. _I love you I love you I love you._

Tony kisses him on the forehead with a gentle smile.

“Thank you.” _I love you too._

_“Boss, incoming–“_

FRIDAY doesn’t finish her warning before the door flies open and slams against the wall to reveal one Harley Keener, panting heavily.

“Parker.”

“Keener,” Peter says, fighting to keep a straight face.

“You’re alive.”

“Despite my best efforts, I do, in fact, still reside upon the face of this planet.”

“Not funny,” Tony mumbles, and Peter grimaces apologetically.

Harley plops down on the bed, legs crossed.

Tony looks at him in despair. “Why can’t you just sit in a normal place in a normal way like a normal person?”

“Boring.” Harley waves a dismissive hand and squints at Peter. “You still look awful, but a bit better. Less like something from a horror movie.”

“Thanks?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Harley shuffles forward and pulls Peter into a quick hug.

Harley Keener doesn’t do hugs. It must have been really bad.

“Don’t do that again, all right? The old man didn’t really appreciate it.”

“Old man?” Tony squawks, like Harley’s just committed a murder. Maybe he has. “Old – how about I show you _old,_ you little shit–“

* * *

Pepper isn’t a stranger to stressful situations; it comes with the territory – or territories, she supposes, of being a CEO and a wife and a mother and a superhero and a wife to a superhero and a mother to a superhero–

She’s seen kidnappings and near-death experiences and the end of the world and then a staggering universe climb back to its feet, and barely batted an eyelid.

That’s not to say she handles everything life throws at her with grace and composure. No, far from it. She’s still reeling from the fact she saw five men threatening her son and killed them all without a second thought. She doesn’t even have the excuse of Extremis this time.

Yes, Peter’s her son. So is Harley. They may have been Tony’s kids first, but they’re hers now, too. Motherhood came later to her than fatherhood to Tony, the positive pregnancy test in the aftershocks of the apocalypse seemingly both the best and worst thing that had ever happened to her, but she wouldn’t change it.

One thing she can handle with grace and composure, however, is opening the door to Peter’s bedroom – currently a makeshift hospital room – to see Harley screaming bloody murder as Tony pins him across Peter’s legs, fingers tickling his sides.

_Harley’s ticklish, huh? File and save._

“Boys!”

Peter is laughing harder than he has for two months, so either Harley is a miracle worker or Tony finally fucking talked to him. Most likely both.

“Uh-oh, we’re in trouble!” Harley sings when Tony pauses his assault.

“Yes, you are,” she tells them sternly. “Peter is trying to recover, and you’re using his bed like a trampoline.”

Tony makes an apologetic face as he shuffles back to his chair. Sometimes it’s like she has four children instead of three.

“Peter, honey, I’m glad you’re awake.”

“Thank you.” Peter manages to calm down, fiddles with his blanket. “And, um, thank you for coming to get me. Can you tell Rhodey too, please?”

“Of course, and I’m sure he’ll come and see you himself, but baby.” She surprises even herself with that, even more so when she considers that there’s no life-threatening situation happening. “You don’t have to thank us for that.”

“Thank you,” Peter says anyway, because he’s too damn polite. “Um, and I’m not quite sure what happened when you got there, but…thank you. If you had to do something you didn’t want to, or…”

Like the way she’d killed five men without blinking. _This kid._

“Pete, Pepper never does anything she doesn’t want to do.” Tony smooths some hair off Peter’s forehead, careful to avoid the still-healing cut.

“That’s very true,” she agrees. Tony gave her the suit to protect their family, and that’s exactly what she’s going to do.

“Still, thank you.” Peter takes a deep breath. “And sorry. I haven’t exactly been the best company since…since everything, and I–“

“Oh, sweetie, you’ve been grieving.” And hadn’t Tony just been a nightmare after the Snap? Losing not one but two children had broken him in a very particular, painful way. “No one expects you to be normal again.”

“Well, still. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Now, it’s nearly lunchtime, and one of you needs a good, solid meal.”

“It’s me,” Harley says instantly.

“Anyone violently opposed to pizza?”

Peter gasps. “How dare you suggest such a thing?”

“The pizza or the violent opposition?”

“Both in the same sentence.”

“Pizza it is, then.”

“And all is right again with the world.” Harley shoots another wary look at Tony before settling back on the bed with a dramatic sigh.

_It is_ , Pepper agrees silently, and watches the boys for another moment before she leaves.

_Her boys_. That has a nice ring to it.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr at [akillerqueenwrites](https://akillerqueenwrites.tumblr.com), or my main blog [akillerqueenyouare](https://akillerqueenyouare.tumblr.com). come say hi, ask questions, leave prompts or just yell at me. i've also made a twitter, [@killerqueenao3](https://twitter.com/killerqueenao3) , if any of you want to talk to me there (it's mostly pictures of my dog). thank you for reading!


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